Blind Fate
by Elf Eye
Summary: The Nameless One Series, elfling category. Anomen must cope with and learn from a serious accident.
1. Chapter 1

**Folks, here is an angsty Anomen elfling ficlet. Keep your handkerchiefs handy.**

**Beta Reader: _Dragonfly_**

**Blind Fate: Chapter 1**

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an elfling in possession of spare time must be in want of a companion. One morning Anomen had so pleased Erestor by marching through his lessons with nary an error that the tutor had set him at liberty. You would think that the lad would have been happy, but instead he was wandering restlessly through the Hall. His fellow sufferers Elrohir and Elladan, not having performed in as exemplary a fashion, were still trapped in the library, and Anomen did not know what to do with himself. At length, however, he bethought himself of Gandalf and went in search of the wizard. It would not take him long to find the Maia. The wizard had come to Rivendell for the express purpose of consulting a tome about the final days of the Last Alliance, and he had visited the library that morning in search of that volume. Having found it, he had borne it away to read in peace, away from wriggling, whispering elflings. Anomen guessed he would have gone to the Hall of Fire, which would be deserted, or very nearly so, at that time of day. Off Anomen scampered to that chamber, heedless of the fact that he was one of the reasons Gandalf had retreated to that room in the first place.

Sure enough, there was Gandalf, ensconced in a comfortable chair by the fire and deeply absorbed in his book. Anomen went to stand by him and peered over his arm. The page the wizard was studying featured a picture of a charred finger encircled by a ring. Anomen shivered a little.

"That is a scary picture, Mithrandir."

"Mmhuh."

"Aren't you bothered by it?"

"Uhuh."

"Is the story so very interesting?"

"Mmhuh."

"That story is about something that happened long ago, isn't it?"

"Mmhuh."

"Are there any dragons in it?"

"Uhuh."

"Trolls?"

Gandalf muttered something in a language Anomen did not understand, and the elfling suddenly found himself suspended in the air—although not by any magical means. The wizard had grasped him by the neck of his tunic, as if the lad were no more substantial than a newborn kitten, and in that fashion carried him to the door of the Hall of Fire, where he deposited him none too gently.

"Anomen," the wizard huffed, "I am engaged in an important quest. Begone and trouble me no more!"

This was of course merely a wizardly way of speaking, but we all know that telling Anomen to 'begone' was a Very Bad Idea because the elfling's preferred mode of dealing with disappointments and vexations was in fact to make himself scarce—very scarce, as in running-away-from-home scarce. Fortunately and unfortunately, however, the elfling was still recovering from his latest episode of making himself scarce. Fortunately, because at the moment he had no particular desire to run away. Unfortunately, because, next to running away, hiding was something the elfling was very good at indeed, and that was what he now set out to do.

The little Elf moped his way to the garden, looking for a likely place to curl up. Ai! It was warm and sunny, and many Elves had repaired to that pleasant place. It would provide no sanctuary that day. Anomen walked on, out the gate and into the forest. He did not mean to go far, of course, and in fact, he didn't, merely wandering until he found a particularly welcoming looking tree. Thus, if this had been an ordinary day, he would have returned to the Hall for the noon meal. This was not, however, to be an ordinary day.

As Anomen rested on a tree limb high above the ground, something was happening in the far-off land of Mordor. Orodruin—Mount Doom—had been sleeping for centuries. Some force, however, was about to summon it back to wakefulness. Once aroused, its power would reverberate throughout Middle-earth and shake the councils of the Wise. But first it would shake Anomen's world.

As the elfling lay upon the tree limb, at the outset all he felt was a gentle vibration within the bough. Then the branch began to sway back and forth. Next it began to jounce up and down as well. As Anomen clung tightly to the branch, all about him trees were groaning and gyrating as the ground beneath them trembled. Orodruin had roared back to life, accompanied by an earthquake so mighty that it shattered buildings and downed trees in all lands, no matter how many leagues distant. From Northern Mirkwood in the east to the Grey Havens in the west, bewildered denizens of Middle-earth frantically clutched at whatever stood handy as the ground beneath their feet, seemingly so solid only minutes before, heaved and cracked.

Desperately Anomen clung to the tree, but it bucked so wildly that at last he slid off his branch and dangled from it, clutching it with his hands and kicking his legs in a futile attempt to climb back on top of the wildly whiplashing limb. At last a particularly violent shake caused him to lose his grip altogether. The tree made a desperate grab for him, but so violently was it being buffeted that it missed its mark, the branches merely brushing Anomen as he plummeted past each grasping bough. Fortunately, when his hurtling body struck the ground, he landed upon a bed of moss that absorbed some of the force of his fall. Still, the blow knocked the lad unconscious, and so he remained for several hours.

When Anomen awoke, he groaned and opened his eyes and then blinked several times to assure himself that his eyes were indeed open. For all about him was darkness. Had he been lying unconscious so long that night had fallen? But, no, he felt the warmth of the sun upon his face, and he heard the singing of birds who would have fallen silent at dusk. He held up a hand before his face. Even on cloudy moonless nights, he had been able to see his hand! Why could he not see it now, when the sun shone!? His eyes had stopped working! In a panic, Anomen staggered to his feet and literally began to run blindly throughout the forest.

In Rivendell, Elladan and Elrohir were still doing lessons in the library with Erestor when the Hall began to shake, and the tutor had seized each of the elflings and pushed them underneath a table and then crawled beneath it himself. All about them books were leaping from shelves, and several bookcases fell over, one of them crashing into the chairs where Elladan and Elrohir had perched only moments earlier. The shaking seemed to go on for several minutes, and when it was over, the tutor and his pupils were quite blocked in by books and furniture. They were, however, unharmed, and Erestor began to push aside books until they were able to squeeze out from under the table. They then discovered that the door was blocked as well, and Erestor decided that they had better climb out the window into the garden. He well knew that one earthquake was very often followed by others which, although they were usually not as strong as the first one, could nonetheless do considerable damage. It would be best to get out of the building as quickly as possible, even if that required the sort of unorthodox behavior that Erestor usually frowned upon. So it was that a worried Elrond, who was holding Arwen tightly by the hand and counting heads in the garden, saw his sons issuing forth from the Hall—two of them, anyway.

"Where is Anomen?" he said anxiously.

"He was not in the library," Erestor replied. "I dismissed him early because he did so well at his lessons."

Gandalf was standing nearby, and he suddenly looked uneasy.

"He was in the Hall of Fire earlier, but I sent him away."

"Sent him away? To where did you send him?"

"Nowhere in particular. Just—away."

Now Gandalf looked more than uneasy—he looked guilty. If he had permitted Anomen to remain with him in the Hall of Fire, he knew that he would have been able to convey the elfling to safely.

"As he is clearly not in the garden," suggested Elrond, "perhaps he went to his chamber. Sometimes he reads there by himself. He thinks I am ignorant of the fact that he filches volumes of fairy-tales from the library, but I know that he does!"

Leaving Arwen in the care of Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond hurried to the chamber Anomen shared with twins. He was accompanied not only by Gandalf and Erestor but also by Glorfindel, who had just now hastened back from the training fields to check on the well-being of the residents of the Hall. When they arrived at the elflings' chamber, at first they could not open the door. At length, with their combined strength, they were able to force the door open enough for Elrond to stick his head through the opening and peer about. What he saw appalled him. They had been unable to open the door because it had been blocked by debris from a collapsed ceiling. Amongst the disorder, a beam had come to rest on top of a pile of broken masonry and stone. Elrond suddenly realized that the rubble rested precisely where Anomen's bed had once stood, and he felt an unaccustomed sickness surge throughout his body. Gandalf seized him as he swayed.

"Elrond, is it Anomen you see!?" the wizard cried out in great fear.

"I do not see him," replied Elrond, and Gandalf looked relieved, but not for long. In a low voice, Elrond explained that Anomen's bed was covered by rubble, and that some of the pieces were very large.

Erestor suddenly shoved Elrond aside and poked his head in.

"Anomen," he shouted. "Anomen!"

There was no answer, and Erestor turned quite pale. With amazing gentleness, Glorfindel moved the tutor aside and began to grimly fish out pieces of rubble that might fit through the narrow opening. One after another, he handed off pieces of brick and wood to the others. At last enough had been removed so that the door could be pushed open just enough for the Elves and the wizard to squeeze into the room. They made straight for the bed and began to remove the rubble. First they lifted and threw aside the beam, and then, their hands bleeding in their heedlessness, they heaved aside stone after stone. The bed had collapsed under the weight of the rubble, and it was only after they had quite removed all the fragments of stone and sorted through the disheveled bed clothes that they realized that Anomen had not in fact been in the bed. Erestor muttered "drat the dust" and rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, and Gandalf, likewise blaming the dust, daubed at his nose. Elrond and Glorfindel, however, looked at each other with concern. Anomen had not run to the garden with the other Elves, and he wasn't in his room. Where then could he be?

As the two elf-lords gazed worriedly at each other, a panicked Anomen, breathless and battered from careening wildly about the woods, tripped over a fallen branch and crashed against a tree trunk. Sobbing, he slid down to the base of the tree and curled up into a ball. He could not use his eyes to see, but he could still weep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to all the folks who responded to the first chapter of this ficlet: **_Vicki Turner, Fluffy's fangirls, Youareevil_ (description of me or you—or both?), _Kel__, Tinnuial, Shelly LeBlanc, Dragonfly, Joee, Andi-Black,_ and _Karri_.

**Beta Reader: _Dragonfly_**

**Blind Fate: Chapter 2**

"First," Elrond was saying, "we should search the places where Anomen likes to spend time."

Glorfindel nodded.

"I will send some of my scouts to the stables. They will scour every inch of those buildings. Others I will send to each and every one of the trees that he considers to be his friends."

Erestor was wringing his hands. He was no tracker but desperately wanted to do something. Elrond turned to him.

"Erestor, I need someone to take charge here at the Hall. You must see to the housing of those folk whose chambers have been damaged. Will you do that?'

Erestor was glad to be given something to do and hastened off to the garden to determine who among the assembled Elves would need temporary quarters for the night.

"And I suppose," said Gandalf, "that I am to look after Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen."

"If you wouldn't mind, my friend. You have a way of putting the young at their ease."

"Would that I had done so today," Gandalf said ruefully to himself as he walked away. "I pray that I shall have an opportunity to make things up to the lad."

Elrond, Glorfindel, and the scouts searched long and fruitlessly that night, for the lad in question was miles away from where they thought to search. Whilst running wildly through the woods, he had wandered further south than he usually ranged. So the Elves searched and shouted until dawn, but Anomen was too far away to hear them. The searchers came across many felled forest behemoths, and as the night wore on, they began to fear that somewhere within the woods surrounding Rivendell the elfling had been crushed beneath a toppled trunk. As dawn broke, Glorfindel at last reluctantly voiced that thought.

"I think," he said grimly, "that we need to work our way through the forest, investigating each and every fallen tree to see whether he is trapped beneath."

"Yes," Elrond agreed sadly, "we should do that. Let us return to the Hall and divide the scouts by quadrants so that each section of the forest is swept methodically. We must not overlook a square inch."

As they were reaching this decision, the morning sun was falling upon Anomen. Feeling its warmth, he stirred, unrolling himself from his tight ball and sitting up. His eyes were swollen with crying, so, even had he not been blind, he would have had difficulty seeing. As it was, however, after hopefully forcing his eyes open a few times to see if his vision had returned, Anomen gave up the effort and decided he might as well leave them shut. "At least," he said to himself, "if my eyes are closed I can pretend that it is for that reason that all is dark."

He remained sitting under the tree for quite some time. His initial terror having passed, he was conscious of the fact that he was lost. "I suppose I should stay here," he thought, "and let them come find me." Then he wondered why he hadn't already been found. He was certain that searchers would have been sent out once he was missed. "If I were anywhere near the Hall, wouldn't they have come across me by now?" he thought. It is true that he had fallen asleep, but he was sure that he would have awoken if anyone calling for him had passed near during the night. In fact, if he were anywhere close to the Hall, no doubt he would hear the sound of searching Elves at this very minute. "I do not think I am anywhere near the Hall," he thought soberly. "What if no one thinks to look here—wherever 'here' is! Perhaps I shall need to try to find my own way back to the Hall. But how am I to decide which way to go? If I stay here, no one may find me, but if I venture away from this place, how will I know that I am bettering my situation? I may very well wander even further from the Hall!"

He sat irresolute, incapable of making up his mind. "At least," he consoled himself, "the weather is fine and does not add to my discomfort." This was true. The morning sun felt very pleasant upon his face, and a breeze gently stirred his hair. Many birds sang nearby, and he began to idle away the time by identifying them by their songs.

"That would be a sedge warbler," he said to himself, listening intently. "It is a visitor here, but that other warbler, the cettis warbler, he lives here year round. Ah, I hear a grey wagtail, and a reed bunting, and a bearded tit. And that one, that would be a redshank."

Suddenly it occurred to Anomen that all these birds lived in or near marshlands. "The reed bunting," he mused, "is called that very name because it prefers to live in reed beds, and so too the sedge warbler is named for the marsh grasses in which it dwells. There is a marshy patch near the Bruinen, at the spot where a tributary flows into the river through low-lying lands. Sedges grow in that place, and that is where the ellith gather reeds for plaiting."

As he sat mulling over this fact, he heard another bird call, this time a little further off.

"That's a kingfisher," he said to himself excitedly. "I have seen many kingfishers perched in the trees alongside the Bruinen! It does not sound quite as near as the other birds. Very well, then, I must be hard by the marsh, and it must stand between me and the river. If I can get round it or through it, I will find myself upon the bank of the Bruinen. I must move toward the sound of the kingfisher!"

Glad at having resolved upon a course of action, Anomen leaped to his feet and began to move cautiously in the direction from whence came the call of the kingfisher. His first steps were very tentative. He held his hands out before him and feared that at any minute he would crash into some obstacle. Yet he soon discovered that he was very adept at feeling out the way. Whenever he passed underneath a tree, the vegetation thinned out underneath its shade, and so he knew whenever he neared a tree. But the trees dwindled the nearer he drew nearer to the marsh, and he began to pay close attention to the softness of the ground. After he had walked awhile, his right foot several times sank a little bit into boggy ground, so he knew that he was skirting the marsh.

"Keep your left foot on hard ground and your right foot on soft," he said to himself, "and you cannot fail to pass round the marsh. By that means you will reach the river."

As he walked, the call of the kingfisher grew louder, and Anomen began to hear the sound of rushing water. At length he felt sand under his feet, and only a few moments later he stood upon pebbles. Before him he heard the sound of water tumbling over rocks.

"This is indeed the Bruinen," Anomen said to himself. "None of the streams hereabouts are as fast or as noisy as that great river. I am facing the channel. That means that I am looking west, and my back is to the east. My right shoulder at the moment must be to the north, and my left shoulder to the south. Now, I have surely not crossed the Great East Road, for it lies to the north of the marsh. If I follow the river to the north, keeping my left shoulder to it, I must come to the Road. Then, if I turn my back to the river and hold to the road, I will be heading toward home!"

Emboldened that he had thus far been able to find his way without the aid of his eyesight, Anomen set out with remarkable cheerfulness. He kept to the sand, where the way was clear of brush, and from time to time he stopped to drink from the river, thus having all the more reason to be glad that he had chosen to stay by its banks. As the hours wore on, however, Anomen began to suffer from hunger. It had been a full day since he had last eaten. "I wish I had my bow," he lamented to himself, "so that I might try to bring down some game. But I am being foolish," he scolded himself a second later, "for I cannot see to aim my bow!"

As he walked on, he mused upon the many foraging excursions that he had joined in. Glorfindel was quite insistent that all the young Elves learn to live off the land, and the elf-lord had supervised the preparation of many a meal that had consisted of nothing but the roots and leaves, nuts and berries, that had been gathered by his pupils. "I am probably surrounded by food," Anomen moaned to himself, "but as I cannot see it, I cannot gather it."

Then he bethought himself of how he had found the river even though he had not the use of his eyes.

"I used my ears and sense of touch to find the river. Why may I not find food without my eyes?"

Of course, he was not going to able to find his lunch by listening for it, but he thought he could make use of his nose and his hands. "And then," he said to himself, "whatever I find by those means, I will carefully taste in small quantity to make sure that I have truly found what I think I have found! Now, what would grow hereabouts? Arrowroot, of course, but that's no good—its rootstock must be cooked before it can be eaten. The rootstock of the spatterdock, though, it may be eaten raw, although it sometimes has a bitter taste. I have passed several inlets where the water stands quiet enough for that plant to flourish. I would have to venture into that water, of course, but only into shallow places, and I'm sure if I were careful I would be able to find my way back to land. There is also the ordinary water lily. Its rhizomes are thick and fleshy and would be tastier than the spatterdock's root. Unfortunately, though, I would have to find some way to remove tough rind. I wish I had my knife!"

Anomen walked on, cataloguing in his mind the many plants that grew near the margins of a waterway.

"There's watercress and wild dock and wood sorrel, but I should have to gather much of their leaves to satisfy my hunger—and then I would probably only end up with a sour stomach anyway! I _might_ be able to make use of the roots of the wild dock and the sorrel, however, for they are rather like carrots. It would be time-consuming to dig them up. I should have to linger awhile. Blackberries, raspberries, and dewberries are in season and would be tastier than the leaves of the watercress and the others, but, again, I should have to gather many. I think after all it would be best if I were to gather the stems of cattails, preferably young ones, which will be tender. They are edible uncooked. Likewise the stems of reeds may be eaten uncooked, again, the younger the better. They will be very easy to find, as well as plentiful."

Just then he heard the beat of wings and a splash as a kingfisher snapped up a fish in his beak.

"Of course," Anomen thought to himself, "one may forage for more than plants. I do not think I could catch a fish, but there are other edible creatures in the water that are not so swift and that may be found in the shallows. The twins and I have often amused ourselves in hunting crayfish. But more filling would be mussels. I have no knife to pry open a shell, but I could smash them upon the rocks and so get at them that way."

Anomen groped about on the ground until he found a rock that he thought might do to dig up and pry free mussels. Then he waded into the water and began to search with his hands. At last he had located and harvested several of the shellfish. Triumphantly he returned to the riverbank, placed a mussel upon a wide, flat stone, and cracked it open with a hammer stone. Then he fished out the meat from within, and, with a slight grimace, swallowed it.

"I would rather that they be steamed," he said to himself, "but I have seen Lord Glorfindel eat them raw with great relish. Erestor disapproves of the practice, I know. I heard Glorfindel tell him that mussels improve his performance, and Erestor mocked him, telling him that he has confused freshwater mussels with oysters gathered from the seas. Glorfindel, however, says that anything slick and slippery would do. Erestor looked quite shocked, I remember, but then it is easy to shock Erestor."

Anomen ate another mussel, and then another. Soon he sat basking in the sun on the riverbank, feeling comfortably full. As he sat there, a breeze carried to him a subtle and sweet aroma.

"Wild roses!" he exclaimed with delight. "And where there are roses there are rose hips!"

He arose and took several steps away from the riverbank until he encountered the thorny branches of a wild rose bush. Eagerly he stripped it of its rose hips, the acorn-size fruits that were both tasty and nutritious. Some he ate on the spot, but most he slipped into his tunic to snack on later. He congratulated himself on the fact that they were bigger than blackberries and raspberries and, unlike those fruit, would not bruise or crush easily.

Thus refreshed and provisioned, Anomen resumed his trek to the north, making excellent time, for he walked with both vigor and confidence. Not long after he had stopped to sup, his feet felt a sudden change in the ground. He had stepped onto a smooth, wide surface that had been hardened by the passage of many feet. He had, he exulted, found the Great East Road.

Now turning his back on the Bruinen, he set out for the east, toward Rivendell. It was even easier to walk on the road than on the riverbank, for there were no obstructions, and the grass to the side of the track felt very different from the packed soil of the road. Whenever he felt his foot straying on to the grass, Anomen moved back to the center of the road.

Anomen walked on and on. After awhile he felt the sun low upon his back, and he knew that dusk drew near. It seemed pointless to stop, however.

"After all," he said, with a rueful smile, "I can walk in the dark."

And so he marched on even after the silence of the birds and the coolness of the air announced the onset of night.

In the Hall, Gandalf was on his feet as well, pacing back and forth in his room. With the setting of the sun, the scouts had abandoned the search for the day and returned disconsolate to the Hall. Gandalf was stricken at the sight of Elrond's face when the elf-lord heard that the scouts had found no sign of the elfling, and the wizard had fled to his chamber.

"If only I had not been so short-tempered," he berated himself as he paced. "What harm was he doing, really? Distracting me a trifle, it's true, but much time must still pass before matters come to a head. The return of the king would not have been delayed one whit had I had the patience to listen to and answer his innocent questions."

Back and forth, back and forth he marched. At last the chamber could not contain his agitation, and he made for the outdoors, with slumped shoulders walking past the surprised door warden and setting out on a circuit that took him around and around and around the garden.

Anomen felt the sun upon his face as he came to the gate of the garden, and he knew it was dawn. He did not reflect upon the fact that, dawn or no dawn, he would have to walk the path in the dark, for he was so familiar with that place that he truly could have walked its paths in his sleep. Moreover, he had run through the garden with his eyes covered whilst playing Blind-Man's Bluff with Elladan and Elrohir. He quickened his pace.

Gandalf had completed yet another circuit of the garden, reaching the foundation of the Hall and turning round to once again trace the grounds. But who was that who now paced upon the path, coming quickly toward him?

Anomen heard footsteps running toward him. The steps were heavier than those of any Elf, but he smelled the lingering odor of pipeweed and so he was not afraid of the unseen being who approached him.

"Mithrandir," he cried, "Mithrandir!"

Arms were flung around him, and the elfling was glad, but he cried out in pain when the wizard rubbed his head affectionately.

"What is the matter?" Gandalf asked anxiously.

"My head hurts dreadfully."

Gandalf carefully searched his scalp.

"You do have a dreadful lump there. Perhaps you have suffered a concussion. Let me see the pupils of your eyes."

Gandalf took hold of Anomen's chin and lifted his face. The elfling heard a quick intake of breath and knew that the wizard had realized that he could not see. The Maia released his chin and took hold of his elbow.

"Come," he said gently. "I will take you to Elrond."


	3. Chapter 3

**_MoroTheWolfGod_****: Hello! Welcome back. Haven't heard from you in a while. Wasn't sure you were still reading. Glad you are.**

**_Dragonfly:_ Thanks for helping me keep ahead of the angry hoards!**

**_Legosgurl_****: Thanks! Pass on my thanks to Legoslover, too.**

**_Andi_****_-Black:_ You are such a cynic!**

**_Blessing of Earendil:_ Power! Hehehe, I love it! Grovel! Grovel!**

**_Karri: _Yes, Anomen has always been a 'quick study'.**

**_Joee_****: Yes, Anomen is much more resourceful than I would have been. Like you, I would have probably starved.**

**Beta Reader: _Dragonfly_**

**Blind Fate: Chapter 3**

A great hubbub broke out as the wizard and elfling entered the Hall, and Anomen did not need his eyes to know how glad folk were at his return. From all sides Anomen heard exclamations of joy. Gandalf, however, quickly guided him through the throng, making for Elrond's chamber. There they found the elf-lord wide awake, for he had no more been able to sleep than Gandalf had.

"Enter," he said sadly in response to Gandalf's knock, but when he saw Anomen walk into the room, he sprang from his chair and literally ran across the room to embrace him.

"Anomen," he cried, giving vent to rather unelvenly enthusiasm, "we have all been dreadfully worried about you! I am so relieved that you are unharmed!"

"He is not altogether unharmed," Gandalf warned him. "He has taken a nasty blow to his head, and it has bereft him of his vision. You had better examine him."

"A blow to the head? I see. Tell me, Anomen, was the blow hard enough for you to lose consciousness?"

"Yes."

"How long were you unconscious—can you tell me that?"

"I'm not sure. It was daylight when I fell from the tree, and it was daylight still when I awoke."

"How did you know that it was daylight? Did you still have the use of your eyes when you regained consciousness?"

"No, but I could feel the sunlight upon my face and hear the day birds singing."

"That's a good lad," Elrond said approvingly. "I see that you retained the use of your wits and made excellent use of them."

Elrond now lifted Anomen onto a table. Holding a candle near, the elf-healer first looked in Anomen's ears and nose for any signs of blood. He was relieved to see that there was none.

"I am going to bring the candle quite near your eyes. When you feel the warmth of the candle, you will of course instinctively wish to close your eyes, but I want you to fight that impulse."

Anomen nodded and did his best, but suddenly he felt a sharp pain behind his eyes and thought he saw a dazzling light. He squeezed his eyes shut in spite of himself. Elrond, however, was not displeased.

"You saw something just then, didn't you?"

"Yes, a bright light."

"Your pupils contracted quite normally," Elrond said.

"Is that good?"

"It very well may be, although I do not wish to make any extravagant promises. I see no injuries in the eyes themselves. Anomen, I am going to give you a potion that will make you feel sleepy. That sensation is something that I do not wish you to fight against. Instead, allow the drowsiness to take you."

At that, Anomen tightly clutched Gandalf's robe. He had been frightened when Gandalf had used the word 'concussion', for Elrohir had once told him that if a person fell asleep after suffering a concussion, he might never wake up. Yet here was Elrond giving him a potion to make him fall asleep!

"Mithrandir, will you stay with me?" he begged.

"Indeed I will," the wizard reassured him. He picked up the elfling and carried him to Elrond's bed, where he sat himself down with Anomen cradled against his chest. Elrond held up a cup to Anomen's mouth, and the elfling obediently drank the elixir down to the last drop. Just as Elrond had said, he soon found himself growing sleepy. Oddly, though, as he dozed off, he did not feel as if he were falling from blackness into a deeper blackness. Instead, he felt as if were drifting toward a distant glow. But this, of course, must have been a dream brought on by Elrond's potion.

Anomen awoke to a rumbling noise. He was lying with his face on something soft. Instinctively, he opened his eyes, forgetting that he could not see. To his surprise, though, he was not confronted by a wall of darkness. Instead, the world was gray.

"I wonder if my eyesight is coming back," he said aloud.

"What do you see?" said Elrond's voice.

"A grey patch."

Elrond chuckled.

"Lift up your chin."

Anomen lifted his head up a little bit and now saw a white cloud—no, it was a white beard! And the grey patch was none other than Gandalf's robe. Anomen had been dozing on Gandalf's chest, and the rumbling sound he heard was the wizard snoring.

Anomen sat up carefully and looked about.

"I can see, and I am glad I can see. Things look a little fuzzy, but it is still better to see badly than not to see at all."

"As the days pass, your eyesight will grow better and better. Soon your vision will be as keen as it ever was."

"Do you think so?" said Anomen, wondering if he dared permit himself to believe Elrond's words.

"Yes, I think so. You took a nasty blow to the head, but you are recovering. I put you into a deep sleep the better to allow your injured brain to heal. As the swelling continues to go down, your brain and your eyes will sort things out."

"May I get up?"

"You must take things easy for several days. No running about! No horseback riding! No wrestling! No tree climbing! If you will promise to obey these rules, then, yes, you may get up."

"Oh, I promise," replied Anomen earnestly. "I merely want to get up because I very badly need to make water."

Elrond smiled and helped Anomen off the bed, for he was a trifle unsteady on his feet. But the elfling insisted on being left to his own devices when they arrived at the garderobe. "I'm not going to fall in!" he exclaimed indignantly when Elrond offered to support him whilst he made use of the tiny chamber.

"You'd best not," retorted Elrond as he departed, "because if you do _I'm_ not going to climb down to rescue you!"

It occurred to Anomen that it would be an interesting sight to see Elrond climbing down the noisome shaft, and for the briefest of moments the elfling was indeed tempted to fall through the opening. However, his horror of filth won out, and the temptation vanished as quickly as it had come. What Anomen did not know was that on one occasion Elrond _had_ been forced to make the descent. Elrohir was responsible, but for once that elfling had not gotten into mischief on purpose. He had simply been very little, and whilst balancing his bottom on the edge of the seat, he had slipped in. His twin Elladan had set up a great wail, and Elrond had come running. When he realized what the matter was, he looked as if he would have rather been fighting Orcs. However, at that particular moment there were no Orcs nearer than the crevasses of the Misty Mountains, and so Elrond, with a rope around his chest, had been forced to allow Glorfindel to lower him into the garderobe. He got a firm grip on Elrohir—it was not easy, as the elfling was, well, the elfling was _slimy_—and then Glorfindel had pulled the two back to the surface. Of course, as soon as Elrond and Elrohir emerged from the garderobe, Glorfindel dropped the rope and hastily retreated, leaving the malodorous duo to make their way alone, through deserted hallways, to the nearest bathing room, where every cauldron had been filled with water and nearly a month's supply of soap had been left to hand. Elrond and Elrohir had bathed first in one cauldron and then moved to the next until they had made use of each and every one. Even so, the two had the table to themselves that night at dinner, although Elrond protested that there was no possible way any odor could still cling to them.

"We scrubbed ourselves so thoroughly," he grumbled, "that I am sure we shed more skin than a molting serpent."

His protests were in vain, however, as no one was willing to draw near enough to assay the truth of his words.

This was a story that Elrond and Elrohir did not care—and Glorfindel did not dare!—to repeat, and so it was that Anomen knew nothing of the tale. It would have comforted him to know, however, that Elves are not always ethereal creatures, for as he made way back to Elrond's room, he found that his eyes were not always in communication with his feet. He stumbled many times and more than once bumped into a wall. "I am as clumsy as a Man," he moaned to himself. At last he hit upon a clever solution. He closed his eyes and thus made his way easily back to the chamber, walking swiftly and with confidence, in the same fashion as he had traversed the path in the garden.

Over the next several weeks, Anomen's eyesight returned to normal (which is to say, that it became much sharper than a Man's), but the elfling experienced an unexpected side-effect: his hearing, smell, and sense of touch, which had been necessarily heightened during his ordeal, did not return to their former levels. Of course, as he was an Elf, these particular senses had always been superior to those of Men, but now they were superior even to those of most Elves. And he had an uncanny ability to close his eyes and walk without bumping into objects.

A year after Anomen's accident, his senses were still heightened, and Elrond was of the opinion that the change was permanent. This troubled no one save Elrohir, who was a little envious that Anomen, who had always excelled in archery, now also excelled at any task that required keen smell, hearing, or touch. His mood was not improved when he complained to his twin and Elladan replied cheerfully that he must have a superior sense of taste because he had the best appetite of anyone at their table.

"I don't want to be renowned for my exploits at the table," Elrohir grumbled. "I want to be celebrated as a hunter and tracker and warrior. Give Anomen the slightest scent, the slightest sound, and he can locate his prey whilst the rest of us are still examining the spoor of our quarry. It's not fair!"

It was with that frame of mind that Elrohir one day joined Elladan and Anomen on an excursion to the east of Rivendell. The earthquake had greatly changed the landscape, and even a year later the elflings were discovering new features in the terrain.

After walking for several hours, the elflings stopped to eat their lunch. The food was excellent, the day was warm, and soon the elflings were asleep. Elrohir was the first to wake up. He nudged Elladan.

"Elladan, wake up," he whispered.

"Mmph."

Elladan rolled away. Elrohir tried again.

"Elladan," he hissed, shaking his brother's shoulder, "wake up."

Elladan's eyes came into focus.

"Whassamatter?"

"We're wasting time. We should explore some more before it grows too late."

Elladan yawned.

"'Nomenshtillshleepin'."

"Oh, leave him sleep," implored Elrohir. "Let's just you and I go exploring for once."

At last Elladan reluctantly gave in to his twin's entreaties, and the two slipped off. They had walked only a short distance when Elrohir, to his great satisfaction, saw a small cave entrance that had not existed before the earthquake. "If Anomen had been along," he gloated to himself, "no doubt _he_ would have spotted it first. I am glad we left him behind!"

Triumphantly, Elrohir pointed out the opening to Elladan and proposed that they should climb down into it and explore. Elladan vigorously objected.

"You know that we are not allowed in caves! Trolls live in such places!"

"You dwarf-pate," scoffed Elrohir. "That opening is much too small to admit a Troll! Indeed, I believe a full-grown Elf would be unable to slip through it!"

"_You_ may go in if you like," Elladan at last said, "but _I_ am going to keep watch at the entrance. No one knows where we have gotten to, and if something were to go wrong, someone needs to be able to go for help."

"Oh, very well," said Elrohir grudgingly. Then his face suddenly brightened. "At least," he enthused, "this means that _I_ shall get all the credit for this discovery!"

Elrohir quickly made and kindled a torch, and Elladan held the burning brand as his twin crawled through the entrance, which angled down. Once Elrohir had safely found his feet, Elladan handed the torch through the opening.

"Don't go far, Elrohir," he begged. "Even if there are no Trolls in that cave, there may be other dangers."

"I'll explore until the torch is nearly half burned, and then I'll promptly turn back," Elrohir promised. Elladan peered through the opening as the light from the torch steadily descended. When he could no longer see even the slightest flicker, he sat back and looked about. At once he noticed that the sky, which had been clear, was now overcast.

"It will rain soon," he thought to himself, and he drew his cloak up over his head. Soon the first drops fell from the sky. It was warm, and Elladan didn't mind. Quickly, however, the gentle rain was transformed into a torrential downpour. Elladan was soon soaked. Still, he didn't mind—until he suddenly realized that rainwater was pouring into the entrance to the cave. He sprang to the opening and peered in. To his horror, he saw a virtual waterfall cascading down into the tunnel. What if his brother should become trapped in the depths of the cave?

Elladan repeatedly shouted his brother's name into the tunnel but received no answer. "I must go after him!" he cried, and he quickly assembled a torch, although the sticks and leaves that he used were drenched. Again and again he tried to kindle the brand, but all his efforts were in vain.

The onset of the rainfall had awoken Anomen, and he, like Elladan, had not been troubled by it. He was a little disappointed to find that he had been abandoned by the twins, but he merely shrugged his shoulders and drew his own cloak over his head, meaning to wait for the return of his foster-brothers. After a few minutes, however, he heard Elladan's frantic shouts, and he leaped up and sprinted in the direction of the cries. Quickly he located Elladan, who was still trying to light his torch.

"Anomen," Elladan cried as soon as he saw Anomen, "you must run to the Hall for help. Elrohir is in that cave, and I am afraid that he will drown if no one brings him out!"

Anomen glanced swiftly at the opening that Elladan pointed out and shook his head.

"The Hall is too far for help to arrive in time, and even if it were closer, no grown Elf could fit through that hole. I will go down myself."

"But, Anomen," Elladan wailed, "I can't get this torch to kindle! Everything is too wet."

"I'll go in without one," Anomen declared. "I'll feel my way."

At once he made good on that declaration, throwing aside his cloak and sliding down into the cave. For several minutes an anxious Elladan could make out his figure, but then his foster-brother vanished into the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Dragonfly:_ Yes, one would hope that Anomen's heightened senses would turn out to be useful in some way.**

**_Joee: _****Yes, you're right: Elladan should have simply said "_when_ something goes wrong"!**

**_Kel_****: OK, I'll see what I can do about saving that wayward elfling.**

**_Matrixelf_****: Thank you. I hope you like the fourth chapter as well.**

**_Karri:_ OK, will try to sort things out for Elrohir. Afraid it will take counseling, however.**

**_Blessing of Earendil:_ Yeah, it's amazing how effective refresh buttons can be if you figure out just the right way to jiggle the handle.**

**_MoroTheWolfGod_****: You mean all this time you haven't had a computer!? How did you survive!?**

**Beta Reader: _Dragonfly_.**

**Blind Fate: Chapter 4**

As Anomen descended, a stream of rainwater rushed by his feet, and when the tunnel leveled out, the water began to rise. First it swirled above his ankles, then about his knees, then his thighs. At last it reached his waist. Undaunted, Anomen steadfastly pushed on through the darkness. From time to time an almost imperceptible breeze would tell him that he was passing a side tunnel. Whenever he encountered one, he stopped and shouted Elrohir's name. Hearing nothing, he would move on.

The water rose to his chest, but still he forged on. At last, however, he reached a point where the ceiling of the cave dipped down. If he were to go forward, he would have to submerge himself.

"The ceiling has dipped low at several points," he said to himself, "but it has always quickly risen once again. Perhaps this is such an instance. It may be that if I swim under this barrier, I will find the passageway unobstructed on the other side."

Anomen spared only a few seconds to ponder his course.

"Yes," he resolved, "I shall swim until I feel myself growing short of air and only then, if need be, shall I turn back."

Taking a deep breath, Anomen ducked under the water and swam forward, swimming on his side so that he could feel with his hand whether the tunnel was opening up once again. His gamble was rewarded. Almost immediately, Anomen's hand lost contact with the ceiling, and he surfaced. He was met with a shout.

"Anomen! How came you here!? The way is blocked."

Elrohir stood facing him, water up to his chest, his torch held high.

"There is nothing blocking the tunnel," Anomen replied insouciantly.

"Anomen, how can you say that!? It's blocked with water!"

"Then how came I here?" Anomen replied, grinning.

"That's what I asked!" exclaimed Elrohir, a little nettled.

"One can pass through water, troll-brain. But, really, Elrohir, I only had to go a trifling distance under water. If you duck underneath right here, you will almost immediately come up in an open space on the other side."

"But the torch will go out," Elrohir said miserably. "Did you leave a torch on the other side?"

"No, but never mind about that," Anomen answered. "We can still find our way out. There are a few side tunnels, but luckily you followed a straight path. It shall be a simple matter to hold to the main tunnel."

Elrohir was afraid that they would never be able to avoid blundering off the main path without the aid of a torch, but he had no choice but to trust Anomen. As they talked, the chamber they were in was continuing to fill, and the water was now up to his shoulders. If they did not escape soon, perhaps the entire cave would be submerged. He nodded. Tossing aside the torch, he took hold of the back of Anomen's belt, took a deep breath, and, when Anomen ducked under the water, he ducked under as well.

They came up in the air but in utter darkness as well. Desperately clutching at Anomen, Elrohir followed as his foster-brother steadily retraced his steps. Anomen took pains to reassure Elrohir that they were making progress. He was able to do so because he had taken note of the number of side tunnels, and each time they came to one, he counted them down.

"Do you feel that breeze," he said to Elrohir when they reached the first one. "That's a passageway that leads off to the left. We shan't take it, but now we've reached it, there are only five more tunnels that we must pass before we reach a place where the cave begins to angle upward. From that point onward, the water shall begin to rapidly decrease in depth."

As the water now lapped at their throats, Elrohir could only hope that Anomen was right.

They reached the second passageway, and the third. By now they were swimming, with Anomen trailing a hand along the side of the tunnel in order to keep his bearings.

"Do not worry, Elrohir," he called above the sound of churning water. "Even if the flood continues to rise, the ceiling in this portion is high above us."

"How do you know?" shouted Elrohir.

"I can feel it," Anomen called back. "If the ceiling were within a few feet of us, I should know it."

Anomen and Elrohir swam past the fourth and fifth passageway.

"Only a little further," Anomen encouraged Elrohir. He could feel that his foster-brother trembled, either from cold or fear, mayhap both. "Here, do you feel that? We are just now passing by the sixth side-tunnel."

After swimming a little ways past that point, they were indeed able to touch their feet to the bottom, although just barely. But they pressed on, and soon the water was down to their shoulders and then to their waists. On and on they trekked, and at last the water was no higher than their ankles.

"We are very near the entrance now," said Anomen.

They scrambled a little further, and at last they could see light. His fear forgotten, Elrohir jubilantly pushed past Anomen and hastened forward. He was the first to climb out of the cave, with Anomen right behind him.

Once out, they found Elladan sitting miserably by the entrance to the cave. From his face, it was obvious that he had cried long and hard. Putting on a show of bravado, Elrohir tried to make light of this fact.

"Anomen," he jested, "it is no wonder that the cave filled with water, for Elladan has cried much."

To Elrohir's shock, Elladan flew into a rage.

"Do you think so little of me," he shouted, "that you would mock my grief!? I thought you were drowned, aye, and Anomen as well!"

Elrohir was more than chastened; he was shamed to his very core, perceiving as he did that the depth of Elladan's fury was in proportion to the depth of his love.

"I am sorry," he said contritely to Elladan. "I have acted as if your love were a trifling toy rather than a great gift."

He turned to his foster-brother.

"Anomen," he said humbly, "you could have drowned whilst trying to rescue me. Hannon le, gwador-nîn. I am grateful."

Neither Anomen nor Elladan was in the mood to politely say, "Oh, never mind."

"You have wronged us both," Elladan said in a straightforward tone that he rarely used with his twin, "but for my part, I forgive you because I love you."

"I as well," said Anomen, equally forthright. "You were heedless, but I will not hold that against you."

Elrohir was not offended by the plain speech of his brothers. Instead, he was relieved and grateful that they would offer their forgiveness so freely. He knew that it was more than he deserved—much more!

After resting for awhile, the weary and wet elflings slowly made their way back to the Hall, where their disheveled appearance put a severe strain upon Elrond's eyebrows. Elladan and Anomen did not relate to Elrond any of the particulars of the day's events, but Elrohir bravely went to his father that evening after supper and told him the whole story—how he had insisted on leaving behind Anomen, how he had foolishly entered a cave, how he had been trapped, and how it had been Anomen who had rescued him by traversing a cave in utter darkness.

"And, Ada," he concluded, "after all the sorrow and trouble I caused, both Elladan and Anomen forgave me—although either would have been justified in spurning my company, so badly did I behave!"

"Anomen did well to rescue you," replied Elrond, "both Anomen and Elladan did well to forgive you, and you do well to be so sensible of how lucky you are to be treated with such forbearance by your long-suffering brothers!"

Several months later, during one of Gandalf's periodic visits to Rivendell, Elrond recited the tale to the wizard.

"Impressive," Gandalf mused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Yes, quite impressive, indeed."

"Impressive, yes," agreed Elrond, "but I would rather Anomen had not been called upon to use his skills in that fashion, and I hope they are not skills he will ever be forced to rely upon again!"

"A lot can happen during the span of an immortal life," Gandalf pointed out. "Indeed, mathematically speaking, such a life subjects a person to an infinite number of adventures. I think it therefore highly probable that he will someday once again find himself in subterranean darkness."

In fact, Reader, in later years, Anomen was to find himself in such a circumstance not once but twice, both times in his guise as Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Northern Mirkwood; and in the next chapter I shall relate both tales.


	5. Chapter 5

**Folks: This story is book verse in that Pippin does not knock a skeleton into a well but rather drops a pebble down a shaft in order to see how deep it is. However, it plays with the idea that, if Frodo became aware of Gollum's presence in Moria, there is no way Legolas and Aragorn would not have been aware of him as well!**

**_Matrixelf_****: Pressing the refresh button worked, seemingly.**

**_Lelann_****: Mae govannen!**

**_Fluffy's_****_ fangirls:_ Hope you enjoy the update.**

**_Geegi_****: Moria, for a start, but eventually the Paths of the Dead.**

**_Kel_****: I think I would have forgiven Elrohir, too.**

**_Joee_****: One update coming right up. Another one on the grill.**

**_Blessing of Earendil:_ More mushiness coming up. Watch for Legolas' final gesture at the end of the chapter.**

**_Karri:_ Whoa! The story's not wrapped up. Here's another chapter, and there's going to be at least one more!**

**_MoroTheWolfGod_****: Thank you! **

**Beta Reader: _Dragonfly_.**

**Blind Fate: Chapter 5**

"Legolas," whispered Pippin, "are you never afraid?"

Even though Gandalf's staff gave off no more than a glimmer of light, Legolas could clearly see Pippin's face. They had been walking for hours, and Pippin looked both weary and frightened.

"Afraid of what?"

"Of the dark. I can scarce make out my own hand!"

"But it is still attached, is it not?"

"What?"

"Your hand."

"Why, yes, of course."

"And you know that to be so without seeing it, is that not true?"

"Ye-es."

"Then what is the matter?"

"I am supposed to _see_ my hand as well as feel it!"

"Tell me, Pippin, if you closed your eyes, would you see your hand?"

"No, but then you wouldn't be supposed to!"

"True. If it were a moonless night, with the stars obscured by clouds, would you see your hand?"

"Perhaps not, but then I wouldn't particularly expect to!"

"And you are troubled neither by the fact that you cannot see your hand when your eyes are closed nor by the fact that on a moonless, starless night you also cannot see it?"

"If I didn't expect to see my hand, then I wouldn't be troubled by _not_ seeing it!"

"Good. Because we are deep within in a mine. Here light is no more likely to penetrate than it would through closed eyelids or moonless, cloudy skies. Should you _expect_ to see your hand?"

This put a new light on the matter, so to speak, and while Pippin was puzzling over how to answer, he quite forgot how oppressed his spirits had been. He betook himself to Merry, and the two put their heads together in whispered consultation. Gandalf, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation between Elf and Hobbit, looked back over his shoulder and sent Legolas a smile and a wink, and, as Legolas had elven vision, he was able to see these gestures as clearly as he had seen Pippin's face. Yet Gandalf believed that, even had Legolas been unable to see his gestures, he would have known of them nonetheless.

"He would have surely felt them," the wizard muttered to himself.

On the Company marched, guided by the dim light that came from the glowing tip of Gandalf's staff. For all his years spent underground, even Gimli would have been lost without that slight illumination. Gandalf believed that, of the Fellowship, only Legolas would have been able to find a way out of Moria should all light have failed them. Gandalf knew, however, that the Dwarf would be furious if he ever realized that the wizard was of that opinion. Therefore, whenever the wizard was unsure of which passageway to take, he was careful to make a show of consulting the Dwarf. But when he had the chance to do so without attracting notice, he also made shift to ask Legolas' opinion as well.

Aragorn knew Gandalf well, and he could not fail to observe the wizard's surreptitious efforts at seeking guidance from the Elf. It amused him to see the wily wizard cudgeling his brains in order to outwit the stolid Dwarf. He hid his amusement, however, for, like Gandalf, he knew it would not be wise to offend Gimli. It was not difficult for the Ranger to dissemble in this fashion. Over the years he had had much experience in hiding both his thoughts and his emotions. For this reason, he knew that the Hobbits thought him grim, and for a wistful moment he wished that they could see him as he had once been, as a youngster growing up in Rivendell amongst his elven kin. He had had no need of caution then, and when he felt joy, he let it freely be known!

"They would not recognize me if they saw me in such a guise," he said to himself. "Indeed," he added ruefully, "I don't think I would recognize myself!"

He heard a slight yet untoward noise and glanced back. Legolas was gazing back as well.

"So," Aragorn said to himself, "it is not my imagination. Something has been trailing us. I might have thought it an echo, but Legolas hears something, too, seemingly."

Then Aragorn noticed that Frodo, too, was anxiously peering into the darkness that pursued them. The Ranger was impressed.

"There must be some Elf in that Perian," he mused to himself. "I am quite sure that none of the other Halflings have noticed anything. Nor are Boromir and Gimli aware that we are being trailed. Gandalf, now—it would not surprise me if he knew but has chosen to say nothing. He would not want to alarm the little ones."

Aragorn slowed his pace so that he might inconspicuously fall into step beside Legolas.

"Have you seen what it is?" he asked softly.

The Elf shook his head.

"It is very sly and has stayed in such dark corners as even my eyes cannot penetrate. No doubt it is something smaller and quieter than an Orc."

"And cleverer."

"Aye, and cleverer."

"We must pretend to take no notice of it. Perhaps it will grow incautious and draw nearer so that we may determine what it is. Mayhap we shall then be able to capture or kill it."

Legolas nodded.

"I shall be alert for some such opportunity."

"Good. I would trust your eyes before my own."

Aragorn moved away from Legolas, although not before Boromir had noticed the exchange between the two. As Aragorn returned to his place in the column, for a moment Boromir looked him full in the face, staring at the Ranger with an unfathomable expression. Then he turned away, looking forward once more. Aragorn thought he had caught a mix of curiosity, eagerness, and resentment in the eyes of the Man of Gondor, but he was not sure toward whom or what those emotions were directed.

"The riddle Boromir posed to the Council," Aragorn thought to himself, "was as nothing to the riddle of Boromir himself."

Then Aragorn tried to push away such thoughts, for they awoke within him a foreboding that added weight to the fears under which he already labored.

"As it is said, 'sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof'," the Ranger murmured to himself, drawing a look from Gimli.

"Talking to ourselves, are we? Bad sign, that. Care to share the burden? It will be made the lighter if you do."

"Thank you, but no," Aragorn replied, but he smiled as he spoke. It was generous of the dour Dwarf to offer to share his woes, and Aragorn was both surprised and pleased. Thus far the Dwarf had been the most taciturn of the Company—except, of course, when he was exchanging gibes with Legolas, which happened all too often. "They scold each other like jays," Aragorn had overheard Gandalf muttering, and he suspected that on more than one occasion the wizard had been tempted to affix bird beaks to the offenders' faces. "Poor Gandalf," Aragorn laughed to himself. "Was there ever a shepherd had the keeping of such an ill-matched flock!?"

The shepherd in question was at that moment deciding that it was time for his flock to lay itself down. They had been climbing a seemingly endless series of steps and had just now reached a landing that would be wide enough for the lot of them to find spots upon which to perch and stretch out their aching legs.

"We will rest and refresh ourselves a bit," the wizard declared. "Haste ye to find spaces, for I am going to let my staff go dark—I am that weary!"

Packs were quickly removed and opened and water bladders uncorked. The four Hobbits clustered together. Gimli plunked himself down by the side of Aragorn, and Boromir, after a moment's hesitation, drew near and sat on his other side. As for Legolas, he positioned himself upon the lowermost side of the landing, gazing back at the direction from whence they had come, and Gandalf seated himself by him. When all were settled, Gandalf allowed his staff to go dark, but not before he had kindled his pipe. He closed his eyes and quietly puffed upon its long stem. Legolas, too, closed his eyes, concentrating all his being upon listening, listening. If the creature drew near, it would, he hoped, think the Elf to be asleep.

After a little while, Legolas heard what he was waiting for, the flap-flap of bare feet upon rock. The sound drew near, stopped momentarily, and then was replaced by a scritching sound. "It is crawling now, or slithering, perchance," Legolas thought to himself. He remained still, waiting until he was sure the creature was almost upon him. Then he opened his eyes, and he saw two orbs gleaming in the flickering light from the bowl of Gandalf's pipe. Briefly Legolas locked gaze with the skulking possessor of those orbs. At once, the miserable creature dropped its eyes and melted away, but Legolas had instantly recognized him as the wretched being that the Mirkwood Elves had guarded for a time at the behest of Gandalf. The Fair Folk had fulfilled this task with both great care and great compassion. It had cost them, Legolas reminded himself. In their kindness, the Elves had unwittingly put themselves into a perilous position, vulnerable to attack by Orcs, and several of the Prince's companions had been killed or taken prisoner as a result. Legolas silently rose to his feet, drawing and nocking an arrow as he did so.

"Legolas," hissed Gandalf. "What are you doing?"

"Gollum has been following us. I mean to kill him."

"I thought you had given over such foolish elfling behavior. We are in the mines of Moria, in case you haven't noticed."

"And in case _you_ haven't noticed," Legolas retorted, "I have excellent vision even in the dimmest of light. And were the light to fail utterly, I should track him by scent and by sound."

"Yes, yes, I know that," Gandalf replied impatiently. "I do not doubt but that you could track him. That is not what I meant! I need all your five senses devoted to helping me marshal the Company through this maze! Give over any thought of vengeance."

"Not vengeance! Justice!" protested Legolas.

"Oh, and are you to determine that?" scoffed the wizard. "Are you to be both judge and executioner? Folk who have made a practice of combining those offices have ever fared ill. But even were I to concede that it is justice you seek, you are pledged first to the Fellowship. Pursuit of Gollum is not part of your quest."

Legolas was not ready to concede this point.

"But, Mithrandir, by slaying Gollum, I should be safeguarding my companions," he argued.

"Can you be certain of that? If you slay him, it is altogether probable that you will bring down something worse upon your friends."

Legolas considered. Yes, he could think of several ways in which he could imperil the Fellowship by slaying Gollum. The creature might make an inconvenient sound as he expired, thus alerting any other beings that lurked in Moria that something was amiss. And then there was the problem of his body. It might be discovered, and, again, it would be clear that intruders were present. And what if Gollum were the agent of something or someone more powerful—a being that might come forward to investigate on its own if its spy failed to report when scheduled. Reluctantly, Legolas decided that Gandalf was right. The Elf slipped the arrow back into his quiver and resumed his seat.

"Hannon le, Legolas," said Gandalf gratefully. "Now I will tell you how you can best help. First, you must of course continue to be the eyes and ears of the Fellowship—not even a Ranger is a match for an Elf in that regard! Secondly, your laughter and songs and tales gladden the hearts of the Hobbits. That is very important! They look to you to keep up their spirits. Only lately you have succeeded in cheering up Pippin, the youngest of the Periannath, whose spirits were sorely oppressed by the darkness. Leave Gollum to his fate. It is the Hobbits to whom you must attend."

Legolas agreed, although he still harbored a little regret at being unable to pursue the creature.

"It does seem a shame," he said, "that I may not make full use of my skill at navigating about in the darkness."

"Ah, but that skill will not be wasted," Gandalf said, "for it consists of two things: first, your actual facility at moving about, but second, and more important for our purposes, the fact that your spirit is left untroubled by the dark. It is that spirit we have need of—I have need of! Do not fail me! The Fellowship may face darker paths even that this one, and you must not be distracted from your purpose."

Only a few days later, as Legolas marched toward Caras Galadhon in company with the other survivors of Moria, he reflected upon the truth of Gandalf's words.

"You were right, my friend," he said to himself sadly, "that we would face a darker path—but you did not tell me it would be so well illuminated. I think henceforth I shall always fear the Flame more than the Shadow. The Shadow is naught but darkness visible—and I do not fear the dark! But the Flame—the Flame, it devours. One may emerge from the Shadow, but not, I think, from the Flame."

Yet as Legolas walked on, the sun shone down upon him, warming him, and he was grateful, for his heart had been cold with grief for the fallen Gandalf.

"That fiery star is an orb of far greater power than any other," he mused to himself. "Gandalf spoke of a lidless eye ringed with fire, but if the sun were placed beside that eye, it would prove to be insignificant, dwarfed by the magnificence of the king of the heavenly lights."

As Legolas walked on, he continued to think on this matter.

"It is true," he said to himself, "that the Flame can devour, but it can also purify, and with it may be forged objects of strength and beauty—some dangerous and evil, like the Ring, but the greater part fair and of great virtue. Indeed, any tool that is to be serviceable must first be tempered by being returned repeatedly to the fire. A sword that was not passed through the Flame would be of little worth. No warrior would trust it."

Legolas heard a little whimper and looked down. Pippin was doing his best to suppress his tears.

"You fought well in Balin's tomb," the Elf said to the young Perian.

Pippin shook his head.

"Even if I did, there would have been no battle in the first place if it hadn't been for my foolishness."

The Hobbit could restrain himself no longer.

"It's my fault!" he cried. "It's my fault! If I hadn't dropped the pebble down the well, Gandalf would never have fallen. Our presence in Moria would have gone undiscovered."

"No, you are wrong," Legolas said calmly. "Our presence was known from the moment we entered at the western gate. I realize now that we would never have been allowed to depart unassailed."

"You are just saying that to cheer me up," said Pippin morosely.

"I am saying that to cheer you up, yes, but I am also speaking the truth. We were being trailed. I knew it from the outset, and Gandalf knew it as well. You may be sure that he was not altogether surprised at the attack. I know Aragorn was not. He feared that Gandalf would fall if we entered Moria."

"And yet Gandalf went on nonetheless," marveled Pippin.

"It was his duty," Legolas said simply.

Pippin squared his shoulders and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"No," Legolas thought to himself. "No, it is not at all true that nothing can emerge from the Flame."

And with that he took Pippin's hand and led him on toward Caras Galadhon.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Blessing of Earendil:_ Aw, puppy-dog eyes! Can't resist, so here's a new chapter.**

**_Legosgurl_****: About the profile: When you are logged in, click on 'Settings' and that will bring up a screen that includes a box where you can type up your profile. Hope that is the answer to the question you were asking in your latest review of 'Things Fall Apart'.**

**_Terreis:_**** Welcome back! Yes, I figured that if Frodo and Gandalf picked up on Gollum's presence, there was no way in Mordor that Aragorn and Legolas wouldn't have noticed as well.**

**_MoroTheWolfGod:_**** Thank you!**

_**Joee**_**: Yes, I also have always felt sorry for Pippin. Right you are: Paths of the Dead coming up**

**Beta Reader: _Dragonfly_**

**Based on, and lines quoted from, Bk. 5, chap. 2, "The Passing of the Grey Company," and Bk. 5, chap. 9, "The Last Debate."**

**Blind Fate: Chapter 6**

Aragorn mused over the messages that had been conveyed to him by Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond and foster-brothers to the Dúnadan. "I bring word to you from my father," Elrohir had said. "'The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.'" Elladan had seconded his words. "Ada said to us, 'Bid Aragorn remember the words of the Seer, and the Paths of the Dead'."

The Words of the Seer. While Aragorn had been growing up in Rivendell, his elven guardians had carefully instilled in him with legend, every scrap of lore, that pertained to the Men of Westernesse, and they had not neglected the words uttered by Malbeth the Seer, spoken during the waning days of the northern kingdom. For Malbeth lived during the time of Arvedui, the last king at Fornost. Now the Ranger turned over and over in his mind the verses of Malbeth's prophecy.

"A long shadow does in truth lie over the land," he murmured to himself, "a shadow that stretches ever further toward the west. Do we live in those days, then, the time when the Dead will awaken to fulfill the oath that was broken, the oath sworn to Isildur? I am his heir, yes, but many before me have held that title. Am I indeed the one who can safely pass through the Door to summon the oathbreakers to make good their ancient pledge?"

Yet as he thought on this matter, it came to him that, whatever his doubts, he had no choice but to venture on that path.

"There is no other way," he said to himself. "It is the shortest path to the port of Pelargir and the River Anduin, and I _must_ reach that waterway, else the Corsairs shall come upon Minas Tirith from a quarter from whence the soldiers of the city had feared no danger. If the Corsairs draw forces from the defense of the walls that face the Pelennor, then I do not see how the city shall stand."

Thus resolved, Aragorn had parted from Theoden and Eomer. The Ranger was followed from the camp of the Rohirrim by a company of thirty of his Dúnedain kinsmen, as well as Elladan and Elrohir, and, of course, Legolas and Gimli, who would no more be parted from Aragorn than they would be parted from each other. As Eowyn had told Aragorn, and as Legolas was later to tell Merry and Pippin, none rode after Aragorn at his command but rather because of the love they bore him. Many were to pay a great price for that love, but willingly they laid down the coin required.

Now Aragorn stood before the door to the Paths of Dead holding tightly to his mount's headstall, for, though he knew that the horse was stout in spirit, even one of the Mearas of old would have quailed at the chill air, laden with death, that swirled about them. Aragorn took a deep breath. "This is the only way," he said to himself. "This is the only way."

Leading his own horse, Halbarad came to stand beside his kinsman. Aragorn noticed that the steed pulled back against the reins. Halbarad looked doubtfully at the blackness that opened up before them.

"This is an evil door," he said softly, so that only Aragorn heard, "and my death lies beyond it." He spoke louder then. "I will dare to pass it, but no horse will enter."

Aragorn stroked the muzzle of his own horse.

"We shall lead them, if necessary covering their heads with our cloaks as if we were guiding them through a burning city. You know what I have seen in the palantir, Halbarad. You know that Minas Tirith will fall if we do not make haste. Once we are through the mountain, we will still have a long path before us, before we have any hope of taking ship at Pelargir. If we do not take the horses, then we may as well give over any attempt at aiding Gondor. And then, like the Dead, we shall dwindle and fade into these hills."

Halbarad nodded somberly and ordered Men to bring up the torches. Aragorn held one as he led the column into the mountain, with Halbarad and Elrohir close behind him. One after another the Dúnedain who had ridden south with Halbarad followed these three into the tunnel, speaking soothing words to their skittish horses. Then came Legolas, whose Rohirric horse, Arod, needed more gentling than the elvish horses of the Dúnedain. Bringing up the rear of the column was Elladan, who held aloft another torch.

Not quite the rear of the column, however. Gimli, who had been born and reared in caverns, could not bring himself to follow. "The very warmth of my body is stolen away," he stammered through chattering teeth, and long he stood trembling before the ghastly fissure beyond which lay the dwelling place of the Dead. "Here is a thing unheard of!" he cried in vexation and shame. "An Elf will go underground and a Dwarf dare not!" He groaned. "I will never hear the end of it." With the stubbornness for which his people were famous, he forced his legs into motion and stumbled after the others. "I will not be bested by that Elf," he swore. "No, not when the field of engagement is subterranean!"

But Gimli's rivalry with Legolas, which had elicited many an irritated 'harrumph' from a hapless Gandalf, had in truth by now dwindled to little more than bantering between Dwarf and Elf. This light-hearted competition was a source of entertainment for the two, not a force that could stave off the horror that more and more overcame Gimli with every step he took. He fell further and further behind, for it seemed to him that his legs moved with the slowness with which one flees in a dream, when one's limbs are bound with an invisible spider web that will stretch but in the end not yield.

Elladan's torch was but a speck in the distance, and Gimli was beginning to think despairingly that he would have to shout out to stay the company, when to his relief he realized that his companions had come to a halt. When he came up with them, he saw that the passageway had opened up and they were in a great subterranean hall, like unto the one they had entered at Khazad-dûm, although on a much smaller scale. In its depths, doors led off to side passageways, some open, some closed. Before one of the sealed doors lay a man, and Aragorn gazed down upon him. As Gimli drew near, he saw that this figure was naught but a skeleton clad in armor. He shuddered and scarce understood what Aragorn was saying. The Dwarf caught snatches of it—musings on what may have driven the man to this place—but later he remembered only what Aragorn said at the end, when he raised his voice as if he were declaiming to an unseen host—as indeed he was.

"Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the Accursed Years. Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the Stone of Erech!"

No one answered in speech, but a chill breath, the exhalation of the Dead, filled the chamber, and the torches went out and could not be rekindled.

"Legolas," Aragorn said softly.

Without hesitation Legolas found his way to the side of the Ranger. He stood there silently for a few minutes, listening and smelling and feeling. At last he spoke quietly.

"This way."

He began to walk. Behind him came Aragorn, and after him all the Rangers, each soothing his horse. Gimli had no horse to gentle, and that was a pity, for perhaps such a task would have distracted him from his fear, which returned with all its former force. He stumbled to keep up with the others, and often he fell upon his hands and knees. At last he found himself well-nigh crawling upon his hands and knees.

"I'm not much better than that Gollum-creature," he thought despairingly. "From what Gandalf told us, he slithered about like a lizard."

Gimli's plight did not go unnoticed. Elladan had realized that Gimli was falling further and further behind, and at last he spoke softly to the Dúnadan ahead of him. Word was swiftly passed to the head of the column, and Aragorn called a halt. Legolas went back.

"Gimli, my friend," he said gently, "I fear that these long-legged Rangers set you too fast a pace. You must be weary."

"You needn't coddle me," growled Gimli. "You and Aragorn set a fast pace across the Plains of Rohan, and I kept up nonetheless." His voice softened. "Yet I thank you, Legolas, for the thought behind your gracious words. You would not shame me. For that, I am grateful."

The Dwarf reached out in the darkness and made a stab at clapping Legolas on the shoulder.

"Ooomph!" gasped Legolas.

"Oh, sorry. Hit you in the belly, did I?"

"Lower!" moaned the Elf.

"No! My aim couldn't be that far off!"

"It was! You are crouched down almost to the ground, and I tower above you!"

"Well," deadpanned Gimli, "your voice was already in the upper registers."

It was probably a good thing that the darkness prevented Gimli from seeing the look on his friend's face, else he may have developed a greater fear of the Elf than of the Dead. But Legolas soon recovered.

"We have reached a passageway that appears to be broad and straight," he told Gimli. "Aragorn can follow it easily enough. If he encounters any checks, he can always call me forward. I will walk with you for a time."

Gimli's heart was gladdened, but he wisely refrained from any further attempt at patting Legolas on the shoulder—or on any other part of his anatomy.

As they walked, Legolas tried to turn Gimli's thoughts from the darkness that surrounded them and the Dead that followed them.

"At Helm's Deep, you began to tell me of a cave not unlike this one," he began cleverly.

Gimli spluttered.

"Not unlike this one! Not unlike _this_ one! My dear, foolish Elf, that cavern had _nothing_ in common with this place!"

"But they are both naught but holes in the ground, is that not so?"

The Elf's pretended innocence left the Dwarf speechless for several minutes. At last he harrumphed and commenced a lengthy and enthusiastic lecture on the comparative merits of cave systems. He went into far greater detail than even Erestor would have at his most interminable, but Legolas feigned interest.

"Now I will tell you why this passage is so straight and wide," Gimli was saying. "This was once a lava tube."

Legolas pretended not to understand.

"A lava tube?"

"Truly you Elves know nothing of the earth portion of Middle-earth! You do understand what a volcano is, don't you?"

"Oh, yes," Legolas assured him. "That I know. Mount Orodruin is of course a volcano."

"Good! That will do to start on. Now, within each volcano are chambers of magma—molten rock, that is."

"Molten rock?"

"Yes, rock that is so hot that is has, well, it has _melted_, don't you know!"

"Ah," said Legolas solemnly, "rather like iron in a forge."

"Exactly! Now, from time to time, the amount of magma grows too great for the volcano to contain. Sometimes that state of affairs will result in the most magnificent eruptions! The effluvia of the grandest dragon would look pitiful in the face of the resulting fireworks! On other occasions, however, the magma will escape through tunnels such as this one. The molten rock—we call it lava once it is outside its chamber—flows like a liquid, so it does not block the tube. Eventually, once outside, it cools on the flanks of the mountain or in the valley below. Once the volcano is dead—or at least dormant—it is quite safe to then enter the tunnels that have been left behind. Someone has smoothed out the floor of this passageway so that it is easier to traverse, but its origins clearly lie in the mountain itself and not in the hands of Men."

Legolas' feigned interest had turned into genuine curiosity.

"You know much of the workings of the earth," he said, impressed.

"Indeed I do," agreed Gimli. "But," he added generously, "I am sure you know as much about trees."

Legolas did not doubt him on either count!

Just at that moment, Legolas felt that Elladan, who still walked before them, had drawn to a halt. Legolas put out an arm and stayed Gimli. Elladan turned and whispered, "We have reached a fork in the tunnel. Aragorn would have you go forward and advise him on the course we should pursue."

"I must leave you, my friend," Legolas said to Gimli. Now it was the Elf's turn to try to clap the Dwarf on the shoulder.

"Hey," the Dwarf spluttered indignantly.

"Surely I did not strike your groin, Gimli!"

"No, higher! You patted me on the head. I am a Dwarf, not a child!"

"Many Orcs could testify to the truth of that," Legolas replied, "if they were but living! And soon many more foes shall have reason to know it, for it seems to me that we have come far along these Paths and shall soon find ourselves once again walking abroad in the land."

"You are sure of that?"

"Yes, for the domain of the Dead, while impressive, is nowhere near as vast and elaborate as the great Dwarf city of Khazad-dûm."

Gimli's heart swelled within him, as Legolas had known it would.

"Well, well," he harrumphed, "these Dead were but Men—one couldn't expect them to delve on the grand scale of Dwarves!"

"True, Gimli, quite true. The Dead were but Men."

With that, Legolas left Gimli and returned to Aragorn's side to help the Ranger pick their way forward. It would be a lie to say that the oppression of Gimli's spirits had been entirely lifted by Legolas' words, but it was greatly lessened, enough so that the Dwarf was able to continue his stumbling progress. And even the stumbling was by means a bad thing. Every time Gimli was tripped up by a rough patch in the roadway, he would mutter, "Hah! A Dwarf, now, _he_ would have laid the stones more smoothly. These Dead were but Men!"

So it came to pass that it was because of the words of an Elf that the Dwarf Gimli son of Gloin, denizen of deep places, found the courage to traverse the Paths of the Dead. "Odd," Gimli said later to Gandalf in Minas Tirith, after Aragorn's coronation, "that Legolas was more at ease in the depths of the mountain than I was. His natural place is a perch in the canopy of a tree, but he entered that fearsome place without a moment's hesitation."

"Yet not without reluctance," said Gandalf.

"Nonsense!" snorted Gimli. "He didn't show the slightest bit of reluctance."

"Which doesn't mean he didn't feel any," retorted the wizard. "Legolas is no different from any Elf; he does not gladly enter the depths or the darkness. Yet it is true that he can be at ease in such places; above all, however, he feels no fear. Legolas learned long ago—an Age ago—that there is no darkness so entire that it cannot be outfaced. It is not merely that he has the ability to sense his way through dark tunnels without the aid of his eyesight—anyone could develop that skill! For it is not simply the darkness of vision that he can withstand, but the darkness of despair. To that he would never succumb, even should the sun perish and the last star above flicker and go out."

Gimli looked very thoughtful and wandered off to the forges in one of the lower circles of the city, where he was already a most welcome visitor. There he puttered about for a very long time. It was after the dinner hour when he at last returned to the chamber he shared with the Elf.

"Gimli," exclaimed Legolas, "you missed the evening meal. That is not like you! But, look, I brought a basket away with me so that you would not suffer from hunger. You will find all the foods you are so fond off—including salted pork!"

Here Legolas wrinkled up his nose. He would never understand how the Dwarf could eat that pungent article.

"Hannon le, Legolas, mellon-nîn," replied Gimli gruffly, and the Elf's eyes widened at hearing elvish words in the mouth of the Dwarf. Then Gimli drew forth a small wooden box.

"I have been away from the forge for so long," he mumbled, "that this is but an insignificant assay of my skill—a trifle really. Was trying to think what to do with it, thought you might find it amusing. Here!"

He thrust the box at the Elf. Within was a golden chain to which was attached a pendant sunburst. Legolas held up the gift, and it shone in the firelight, casting rays of light upon the walls.

"It is more beautiful than ever the Ring was," he said solemnly, "and I am glad that it will not suffer the same fate. For I shall never cast it aside but will always keep it in remembrance of the one who forged it. It shall always shine both next to, and within, my heart."

"Should have known you'd make a speech," grumbled Gimli, who was now as red as the metal he had but lately been beating. "Dwarves are metal-smiths; Elves are wordsmiths."

"But all the same, as you say, we both of us are smiths," Legolas pointed out, smiling.

"Why that's true," Gimli said in surprise. "We _are_ both smiths! Hah! That must explain it. Been wondering why we get along, you and I. That must be it. We're both smiths."

Now Gimli became positively jovial. Hitherto he had been wondering how he would explain to his kin that his greatest friend in all of Middle-earth was in fact an Elf. Now he knew. Henceforth as the two traveled together throughout Arda, whenever they came upon any Dwarves, Gimli would always introduce the Elf as 'Legolas, a smith of exceeding skill'. With such a recommendation, Legolas was of course always made to feel welcome amongst the Naugrim. And when the two encountered Legolas' kin, the Elf always introduced the Dwarf as 'Gimli, lover of light', and the Fair Folk did not hesitate to embrace him as one of their own. And that is why in after years it was said that the only thing ever forged in Middle-earth that exceeded the beauty of Gimli's pendant was the friendship of which it was an emblem.


End file.
